


love talk

by dingletragedy



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: (very very slightly), 5 times + 1, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, M/M, its a mess actually and a lot happens and please just hang on till the last part thats the best, uh this is a lot so:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dingletragedy/pseuds/dingletragedy
Summary: This is how it goes.Callum Highway is the sun and Ben Mitchell is the moon.That’s what Ben thinks, anyway—Callum, the sunshine, burning bright and warm and fuzzy, a beauty amongst everything, and himself, Ben, the pale moon, quick to love, quick to leave, cool in its wake.or, the five times callum tells be he loves him, and the one time ben is the one to say it first
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 22
Kudos: 103





	love talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfwayinit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwayinit/gifts).



> hey everyone! this fic is a bit of a whirlwind of everything and nothing - ideally i would've liked to spend longer on it but I really wanted to get it out before tonight's episode!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy - please stick with it till the end because i swear the end is actually half decent (or at least, i hope it is)
> 
> canon divergent from the break-up, but it still follows on events! no mention of the kidnap though, it seems i forgot about that just as easily as eastenders have, lmao
> 
> all of callum's ilys are from ben's pov and ben's ily is from callum's pov
> 
> thank u all for your support as always x
> 
> oh and - i am gifting this to Katie (@halfwayinit) because i adore her and she's always so supportive of my writing and I've ignored her for the last 12 hours as I've been writing this - love uuuu xx

**1.0**

**20.12.19**

Here’s how it goes.  
  
Callum Highway is the sun and Ben Mitchell is the moon.  
  
That’s what Ben thinks, anyway—Callum, the sunshine, burning bright and warm and fuzzy, a beauty amongst everything, and himself, Ben, the pale moon, quick to love, quick to leave, cool in its wake.  
  
He tells Callum this one night, when they’re balancing on a line too thin to hold them up, the two of them stood in the chill of the night, letting it seep their bones in a cold reality. Ben’s words drown out over the sound of broken Christmas carols and shattering fairy lights. 

Callum cries, and Ben cries and the tears dry on his cheeks, sticky and sludgy and dragging him down. He tries to act like walking away isn’t wreaking havoc on his heart, but then Callum turns to look at him, wide eyes lit by the moon, mouth moving to form the words: _I love you_. 

And just like that, all sound is sucked away, all air gone, all lights smashed, and Ben’s just left with the echo of the words to loop his mind, surging and swirling, dragging him somewhere dark and unknown.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

It always felt inevitable, somehow, as though Ben had always known they would get to that point. As if they’d known from the first time he and Callum came together on that park that they were building their own galaxy, a sun and moon and a whole lot of heartbreak. 

“You love me too, don’t you?” Callum says next, feeble, tears spilling over, so impossibly, stupidly dangerous. The time freezes between them, and each of Callum’s slow blinks cracks another corner of Ben’s cold-marble heart, carving out a space there that won’t ever be filled again after tonight. 

And Ben knows now, that this was the moment he should’ve said it back, should’ve bundled Callum up in his arms and wiped his tears away, whispered back those three words that had been whirling around his mind for weeks on end. 

And maybe in a different universe, a parallel dimension in which Ben was a braver version of himself, maybe this would be the moment he’d cup the back of Callum’s neck softly, press his face into the home he’s built there and whisper _I love you too. I love you. I love you. I love you_ , a thousand times over, until his lungs had burst. 

But Ben hasn’t ever felt brave, not when it comes to love, and neither when it comes to Callum. Instead, he’ stays silent, lips bitten so harshly into his mouth he tastes blood, eyes swimming, and he lets the tears rest in a sheen over his eyes until the world is blurry and the fairy lights become distant stars in the sky.

He should be relieved, he should be happy, _so happy,_ that someone as brilliant as Callum, as bright and beautiful as Callum, loves him too, but instead he feels devastated. Not for himself, but for Callum. He’s wanted to hear those words for so long, and he thinks he’s probably been hearing it underneath everything between them for a while now. But now that they’re here, overturned and dancing amongst on the Christmas lights, exposed and swirling around the air, he feels a strange panic settling in his chest. 

_Callum loves him._ He loves Ben and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t because Ben will ruin him, he’ll ruin him like he ruins everything, and Callum is — he’s too much for that, he’s too much for Ben to ruin. 

He watches as Callum blinks and his eyes grow wet, and Ben feels matching tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, because Callum fucking loves him. 

It’s strange, really, how Ben feels so shocked by the words, so unprepared for them that he couldn’t think of anything else to say other than: _No, you don’t love me._

“I will be anywhere that you are,” Callum says next, tiny tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and drooping along his cheeks. _“Please.”_

Ben just stares back, blinking slowly as Callum speaks, voice getting louder and louder, rough and shaking like it’s being torn from his throat, broken apart by hiccuped, hurting sobs, face shiny wet under the moonlight, shoulders shaking with everything that’s pouring out of him. And it hurts Ben so much to see, it hurts like a burning fire. 

“We had fun,” Ben says, aims for cold and collected, but his voice is wet now, tight as more tears come. “You are sweet, you’ve got a big heart, but we’re just ain’t suited.”

“What?” Callum says, palm wiping messily at his cheeks. 

Ben lets out a long breath, puts his palms to his eyes, digs in just harshly enough that he stays seeing starts; seeing Callum and that brilliant smile and everything he loves about him. He’s almost waiting for Callum’s fingers to circle his wrists and press his hands over his heart instead, say something completely ridiculous like; _take it, take my heart, don’t you see it belongs to you?_

Instead, he says: _I don’t love you._

_Lie._

“I don’t love you, and I don’t want your love.” 

_Lie._

The words feel choked and lost under the notes of Silent Night, lost under the calm, bright, and tender, and fuck, Ben always did hate this song.

He lets himself cry then, hot, thin tears that trickle down his nose and run diagonally across his cheeks. 

He walks away, hands shaking and knees weak. He walks away knowing two things. 

_One,_ Callum Highway is the sun and Ben Mitchell is the moon, they’re made for different times, different worlds

 _Two,_ he loves the sun. 

_Deeply._

_Dangerously._

_Eternally._

**2.0**

**24.01.20**

The second time Ben hears those words, he’s just jumped out of a cab, left half of his family behind, and taken his whole heart with him. 

“What are you still doing here, Ben?” Callum asks after Ben’s sprinted the length of the market to reach him. He shivers against the coldness of Callum’s voice. “Ain’t you got a plane to catch in an hour?”

“I ain’t—ain’t going." He says, like it’s that simple. "I can’t leave you, Callum.” 

“That’s not what you said earlier,” Callum accuses. “I thought you were desperate to get me out of your head?” 

“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” 

“What’s that even supposed to mean, Ben?” 

“I thought it’d be easier to just—just forget about you, but that’s only because was so scared,” Ben explains, and he’s met with cautious, tired eyes, and a look of uncertainty, disbelief. He hates that he’s been the one to put it there.

“Scared? Of what, Ben, of me?” Callum questions squeezing his eyes shut tightly, frustrated tears burning at the corners.

“No. Not you. But because I knew right away, that night in the park, that you were someone who could be good for me. I knew right away that you were someone I could spend the rest of my life with.”

Ben knows now that humans are fragile, lovelorn things. We trip over our pasts and burn our present down to ashes and sometimes when someone might look at us and say, _look at all that colour, all that beauty, light and magic and mystery,_ we will hold a mirror up to our own night sky and as we stare into the black we think, _I don’t see a thing._

He doesn’t yet know every version of Callum that exists within him, doesn’t know what he sees in his own night sky, but he’s sure he wants to know. He wants to see each and every galaxy Callum has, the ones he wears with pride and the ones hidden beneath the cracks. 

He’s sure he could love every single one. Every star in his galaxy. 

“I don’t know what the future looks like—God, I don’t even know what tomorrow will bring, all I know is that I want to spend it with you. _Everyday._ And I’m scared, I’m scared of just about bloody everything at the moment, but with you by my side, I’d be fearless. Life doesn’t always go the way we want, the way we plan, you know that better than anyone, but I want to figure it all out with you. Always with you."

Callum pulls away a little, facing Ben fully, and when Ben meets his eye carefully, he finds that Callum’s are shiny too, full, brows pinched as he stares right back. 

“It’s been so long since I cared about anyone, Callum,” he continues. “But I care about you. So much. And I know I ain’t that great at showing you, but it’s true. You make me want to be better. You make me want to wake up in the morning and be grateful. You make me want to travel the world, see the rivers and the stars for all their beauty. See people for their beauty, not their weaknesses. You taught me all of that, Callum. _You._ I don’t think you understand how much–”  
  
“Ben—” Callum stops, lips pulling into his mouth for a moment, eyes cutting away as he takes in a breath. It looks as if he’s hanging off Ben’s every word.

“No, just—just listen. I used to think about jumping off that train line every day. I didn’t want to wake up,” he says, and Callum shakes his head at that, squeezes Ben’s hand tighter as Ben continues. “And now you’re here, and you’ve managed to show me so much in such a little time. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be at that airport about to make a decision I’d have regretted forever, right now. You don’t even realise what you’ve done, Callum. You changed everything the second you stepped foot in my heart.”  
  
“It’s you whos changed my life, Ben,” Callum says, voice edged. The lights are coming in around them, late evening saying it’s goodbye to the day, and in the pale pinks that consume them Callum’s eyes shine, his face shines, all these parts of him Ben had tried so hard to bury now emerged and carved out from the fog. And Ben, too, he’s unravelling himself, almost unrecognisable in the reflection the cafe window, all for the right reasons, to begin again, to start anew, to be himself. _With Callum._ _  
_  
“I can’t go on without you, Callum,” Ben voices. “And I refuse to make any stupid, reckless mistakes again, I refuse to put anyone else before us. _Us and Lexi._ If you’ll let me stay–”

Callum looks to him intensely, and in the balking second it takes for him to reply, Ben’s heart drips like cold honey down his spine to his toes and back into the rattling basket of his achy ribs.  
  
“Yeah,” Callum says, words tumbling from his mouth. “I don’t want you to go.”  
  
They stare at each other for a moment, chests moving in tandem, surrounded by memories and the low whistle of the wind brushing Walfords’s market tops in this tiny, quiet pocket tucked away from the rest of the world, and Callum’s hand is in his, thumb brushing the back of Ben’s own, everything between them running hot, electric, but no longer dangerous. 

Ben has to kiss him then, because he feels breathless with affection and there’s still so much to say but he can’t hold off any longer, he has to press closer and feel the familiarity of Callum’s lips, feel close to him in this brand new way. 

He lets out a shuddered breath, eyes widening and then closing when their lips touch, a fumble of pressure. It’s gentle at first, despite the rush of breath that escapes them, the curl of fingers in jackets, the bump of their noses as they get close. The warmth of it hits Ben first, the overwhelming heat of being this close to Callum again, of sharing such intimacy here in the open, and then comes the shudders, the spine-prickling, the goosebumps along his arms and neck when his bottom lip gets caught soft between Callum’s own.

Callum’s hands reach Ben’s body; his hip, his chest, and there, finally, palm flat over his heart, feeling it beat. He curls his fingers into Ben’s shirt, knuckles against his ribs, slotted there like a key.

When they break apart they linger for a moment, noses brushing, and when Ben opens his eyes, he sees every constellation at once.

“I love you, Ben Mitchell,” Callum says, and shoves Ben playfully, eyes glinting with mischief and light and this—this feels right. “Let me take you home.” 

Ben starts laughing too then, and doesn't stop. He's got this kind of happiness trapped in his chest that demands to be let out; it wants the entire world to know that he’s finally got the man of his dreams. _For this night_. And forever. 

Callum joins him, after a second, hiding happy sounds into the skin of Ben's neck, the cup of their joined hands.

“Please don’t ever leave me again.”

“I won’t,” Ben promises, earnest. “You make everything shine so bright, Cal. You make it all better.” 

A lone sunbeam seeps through the clouds, shines on them, warms Ben from the inside out. 

_  
_And they’re surrounded by it, the yellow light, of galaxies far away, impossible beginnings, impossible endings, all these things that Ben believed could never exist, Callum too. All these things that don’t exist except for when they’re alone, when they’re together, hand in hand like two miss-matched puzzle pieces.

As they stand together beneath the arch of the market, white noise becomes lost to the sounds of their hearts.

But he’s not lost, he thinks as Callum kisses him again, mouth warm, toothpaste and coffee. _He’s home._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**3.0**

**05.02.20**

There's a gentleness about the way the world works at two in the morning. 

Outside, the showering rain finally calms to a soft mist, spritzing the window with tiny drops. The streetlight catches it, creates a monochrome dazzlement of navy blue shapes, dark shadows clinging to the corners of the room, lighter tones brushing almost silver over the crinkles in the blankets and the tips of their noses. 

They’re lying side by side, Callum’s stereo ebbing music so gentle under their breathing. Without a sound Ben lets his head tilt slowly to the side, chin on Callum’s shoulder.

Everything feels soft and hazy, bedroom like a campfire.

It’s strange because there’s still a storm whirling outside the window—snowflakes bright white against the heavy grey sky—but when their mouths touch molten and soft, Ben’s bottom lip caught wetly between Callum’s, Ben’s whole body goes heavy and full of heat, his head turning into nothing but a rain cloud. They move against each other slowly, like shadows, and the moonlight stealing slowly over the walls makes Ben feel like he’s drowning, or maybe just learning how to float.

His vision becomes a static blur of white stars. Callum exhales shakily and Ben swallows the sound, their kiss becoming a blur of teeth and tongue and laughter, _always laughter._

Because that’s how it is with him and Callum, that’s how it’s been since that day Ben put his heart on the line, and that’s still how it is now. Callum kisses Ben back, almost bruising with the force of it, and Ben just smiles goofily, laughing into Callum’s mouth.

“You alright, babe?” Ben grins, cupping at Callum’s jaw, the world blurring in and out of focus until it’s just the moonlight and Callum’s eyes staring down at him. 

Callum smiles slowly up at him, brushing his lips against the dip of Ben’s throat. His eyes are still closed. “I like it when you call me that.”

He’s never said it out loud, but Ben’s always had an inkling that Callum likes it. This shy, secret smile cross his lips every time Ben calls him names like that—stupid names like babe and love, Cal or sunshine—just little words that are all for Callum. 

“You like it when I call you babe?” Ben asks, faux surprised.

“I like it when you call me anything, to be honest.” Callum smiles, still speaking against Ben’s lips. 

“Really?” Ben says, but it’s not a question as such. 

Callum nods, his forehead falling down onto Ben’s shoulder. His chest rises and falls like an ocean wave as he breathes—cresting high, fading back with every exhale. 

Ben grins, slow and giddy, his face hovering over Callum’s like he’s about to lean in for a kiss.

Their bodies are lined up to match now—hips against hips, shoulders against shoulders, Callum’s hands in Ben’s hair, Ben’s hands on Callum’s back. Bens almost certain that they’ll float away the moment they separate, that they’ll move through the walls and through the bricks of the house like mist, evaporating into nothing, into everything, the moon swallowing them up before the sun does.

“Good to know, _babe_ ,” Ben murmurs back, the words blur against Callum’s chin as he kisses it. 

Ben sits up then, wrestles Callum into his arm, he grits his teeth and scrunches up his nose playfully as Ben tickles him.

“Ben, don’t,” Callum warns, but his voice is shaking like a dead leaf.

And everything Ben can see is bright blue—

Bright blue, a drowning colour, the same shade as Callum’s eyes.

“Why not?” Ben frowns, smug giving his game away. He props himself up on the bed, eyeing Callum again, and God—does he seems electric when he’s this close up. Fucking hell, he’s like a sea. Ben thinks he could drown in these sheets. _In this love._ “Never knew you were so ticklish.”

Callum nods. “Yeah, you weren’t bloody supposed to find out.”

“Well that’s your problem now, ain’t it?” Ben laughs, soft and warm as he ducks his head down to kiss at Callum’s neck again, _once, twice, three times_ , the storm outside spinning like television static in the dark. “Sorry, _babe_.” 

It’s a moment before Ben backs away, propping himself over Callum on all fours, and he looks like something out of a dream. His hair is tousled with sleep, wild like a lion, and his blue eyes seem endless here, here in the purple dark where the storm rattling outside seems soft and far away, like the cold could never touch them.

“Hey,” Callum says, and his words are low, just for Ben. He’s smiling, slow, his vision smudged with sleep. “Come back down here. I wanna kiss you.”

“You always want to kiss me, don’t front,” Ben replies, and then he shakes his head and just watches Callum for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Callum nods, eyes never once leaving Ben’s. “Cause you’re my boyfriend, ain’t ya?” 

“Suppose so,” Ben says, grinning up at Callum with warm eyes. “You sap.”

“Whatever,” Callum dismisses. “You’re an idiot, but I still wanna kiss you. _That’s love_ ”

The kiss is everything Ben dreams about. It’s soft mouths, all honey-warm, it’s sleepy and slow, both of them burrowing down into the quilts as the moonlight steals slowly over the off-white walls of the bedroom. It’s a pins and needles feeling as Callum grins against Ben’s mouth, their bodies moving together again, and Ben’s head is swimming so much he can’t really make out his own thoughts over the string of _Love, Love, Love_ filling up his mind like smoke, like thunder.

“I love you,” Callum breathes into Ben’s mouth, when the whole world is a kaleidoscope of moonlit squares and snow pelting against glass. When the world is a blur of Callum, Callum’s teeth on Ben’s lips, Ben's teeth on Callum’s neck, the snowfall, white stars and frosted market tops. “I love you more than I love chicken pasta.”

“Oh, right. Way to make a boy feel special.” 

Callum’s laughter is a burst, something so bright that reminds Ben of his favourite song. It’s a sound worth capturing in a bottle, saving for a rainy day. 

They laugh for so long, these muffled giggles, and Callum is still touching Ben’s face, brushing the tight skin of his jaw, these tiny firecracker touches. And, it’s just—it’s so much, always is with Callum. Ben just has to be a little closer, has to let himself tip forward so their foreheads nudge, so dark inside that all Ben has now is touch, smell, wrapped up in the warm aura that Callum emits, that sunshine hitting the window on a summer’s day kind of warm.

Ben collapses on his back beside Callum eventually, laughing when they’re not short of breath and becoming short of breath when they laugh. They laugh because they’re together, they laugh because they’re tired, they laugh because everything is bright and warm in their hearts, they laugh because they’re happy, so happy it’s euphoric. A sheen of iridescent rose clings to their skin, that look that always lets the entire universe know that two people are lovers, that through space and time they managed to find one another, again and again, to create a moment of perfect bliss between sunset and sunrise, and so now they laugh, because they don’t know what else to do with this happiness, other than let it overflow from their bodies into the universe.

They drift together, uncaring of the demanding red numbers showing on the alarm clock, and they close their eyes to every world but their own, now, letting the night blanket them and letting their hearts slow to a steady, calm beat, a single pulse in the night, like a lighthouse in the great starry sea.

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**0.4**

**14.02.20**

Ben wakes up and, for a moment, forgets where he is.

He’s cold, and his neck is at an uncomfortable angle, propped up on something solid, the muscles and tendons pulling when he shifts slightly.

He opens his eyes, slowly, blearily, to face scuffed cream fabric, a mysterious stain that looks like it could be coffee, a thread that Ben’s been picking at for hours.

Callum’s sofa.

He rolls onto his back, the scratchy wool blanket wrapped around him sliding off with the movement, pooling to the floor in a heap of mossy green. He strains his ears for any sound in the flat—a boiling kettle maybe, or a closing draw. But, nothing.

Still asleep, then.

Or, not asleep but not himself.

The events of the night before feel like a fever dream when Ben tries to recall them: the vague text message from Callum at midnight, Ben’s subsequent panicked sprint to Callum’s, Callum’s quiet plea for Ben to stay, _please stay, Ben. I’m sorry for earlier, I thought I wanted to be alone, but can you stay? Please? It helps, knowing you’re here._

Ben can remember how small Callum looked, asking that, the way his entire body had seemed to shrink in on itself despite his height. 

He can remember how he’d wanted nothing more than to hold him, to press his face into his neck and tell him that everything was going to be alright, that there was nothing Callum could tell him, nothing he could ask of him, that would make Ben leave. 

Instead, all he had said was, _I’ll sleep on the sofa, okay? And I’ll be here, for whenever you need me._

Now, Ben sits up, cracking his neck from side to side as he does. He never did find a pillow, only that thick wool blanket that smells like something distinctively Callum. 

He thinks about yesterday evening, before the moon had replaced the moon, as far as nights go, it was a perfect one. Their first Valentine’s Day together, a fancy meal and the most expensive tasting red wine. Callum was so alive, bursting sun rays and flames, vastly different from the boy who arrived home, kicked Ben out before he could get a foot through the door.

Ben swings his legs off of the sofa, heels hitting an icy wood floor, toes curling into the blanket. He drops his head into his hands. He feels hungover even though he went to sleep sober. 

_You should have known,_ he tells himself harshly. _You should have known something wasn’t right. He hasn’t been right for days now._

He pushes himself up from the sofa, scrubbing at his eyes and willing his mind to leave him alone, even if just for a moment, a moment, so he can figure out what to do for Callum, what Callum will need from him right now.

He pours himself a cup of the coffee that’s been left steeping for too long, now. Stands by the tiny window and stares blankly out into the greying, muggy skies of London and sips at coffee that is as bitter as tar, sweetened only by the thought of Callum’s voice, by the memory of how his smile tastes.

By mid-morning Callum still hasn’t left his room, and it’s so unlike Callum it makes knots loop in Ben’s stomach. 

“Morning.”

He jumps on the spot, craning his neck around because he knows who it is, it could literally only be one person, and there’s Callum, standing just outside of the entrance to his bedroom. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction, his joggers are tucked into a pair of thick wool socks, one sitting a lot higher than the other, his black t-shirt is slouching off of one shoulder and he’s tired, clearly tired, the delicate skin under his eyes coloured purple and blue, hollow under the low light.

He’s frowning slightly, sluggish and slow.

Ben can’t stop smiling.

“Afternoon,” Ben teases, aims for a light tone, but he feels tight and tense. “I’ve made you some lunch, a coffee too, if you fancy it.”

“Oh,” Callum says softly. He chews down on his bottom lip, shifting on his feet where he’s still standing at the entrance, like he’s scared to leave to comfort of his bedroom. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here.” 

Ben feels his heart clench. “Babe,” he murmurs, and slowly, he raises a hand, offering it to Callum. Callum hesitates to take it, and Ben amends, “If you want to be alone, that’s okay. Do you want to take the food and go back to your room?”

Callum shakes his head. “No. No, I want—” He meets Ben’s fingers with his own, their hands folding together delicately. Ben tries and fails to hide the happy sigh he lets out at the feel of Callum’s hand against his own, soft like home, and it makes Ben’s head snap up, he gives a small, shy smile back. 

“Thank you,” Callum says softly, then he’s lowering himself to the breakfast stool beside Ben, folding his long legs underneath himself and curling into Ben’s side. “Just, thank you.”

“Hey, you don’t need to thank me,” Ben whispers into Callum’s hair. He’s warm underneath Ben’s arm and he’s breathing and he’s here and Ben has never meant anything more than he means those words. _It’s nothing. I’d do anything for you._

“I do,” Callum disagrees. He pulls back a bit from Ben, but his eyes stay low, voice quiet. “It’s not. You stayed. All night and all day, you were here.”

“Of course I was,” Ben’s quick to reply. He gently nudges Callum’s chin up with his thumb. “Hey. Of course I stayed.”

Slow, cautious, Ben reaches up and pulls Callum into a firm hug. He hears Callum pause of breath, the shake in his chest as he keeps himself still. His hands are at his face, and Ben feels it when Callum starts to curl them into loose fists, when his chest shudders as their heads rest gently together. And then with another shaky breath, Callum’s arms wrap around Ben’s waist, locked together by his spine, and he holds on so tightly Ben can hardly move.

“Do you want to talk about it? About how you’re feeling?” Ben asks cautiously. 

He’s aware of his thick his voice is, how hot and misty his eyes have gotten. Callum is a feather on his chest, but there’s something else pushing its hands down, something else sitting like a huge, blue weight.

“I don’t know how,” Callum admits, meek. “I’ve never—I don’t even know how—or where to start.”

“Take as long as you need,” Ben whispers, gentle. “It’s okay.”

Darkness shadows across Callum’s face slowly, creeping in as his eyes grow dull, and he curls into himself again. He opens his mouth again, then snaps it shut, taking in a shuddery breath.

“Sorry, it’s just,” his eyes are misty again, “it’s hard to talk about him.”

“Who?”

“Chris,” Callum breathes. He pushes a palm along the tops of his thighs, curls his finger anxiously over his knee as he releases another long exhale. Ben stares, swallows thickly at the shadows under Callum’s eyes, the way they hallow his cheeks out. He feels worlds away but like nothing could ever move him from this point in time. “He is—was— was very special to me.” 

He tells Ben everything he can. From the nights in the camp, the days out in fields. He tells Ben about their first few weeks on duty, about that first night they met. He tells Ben of the ways their hands would dance in the grass as they said their final goodbyes.

Callum grips Ben tight, hides his face away against the underside of Ben’s neck as he cries, back heaving under Ben’s flattened palm, rubbing there, hushing Callum gently, his own breathing stuttered and wet. 

When he’s finished, Callum slowly clamps a hand over his mouth and digs his fingers into his skin, letting out a shuddery breath. 

Ben’s eyes drop down, chastened.

“God, Callum,” Ben starts, bumps their foreheads together softly, as he brings a hand up to round Callum’s head, and he smiles softly when Callum finally glances up at him, his fingers twisting slowly at the cuffs of his jumper. “You’re so brave, and brilliant, and more courageous than you’ll ever know. I’m so lucky that I get to see it every day.”

And that gets a returning smile from Callum, the first of the day, soft-edged, and cautious, like he’s reaching out and pressing his hand over Ben’s heart just with a look. 

Ben feels like his chest is caving in on itself.

“You could’ve spoken to me about this, about anything,” Ben sighs sadly. “I thought you knew that?”

“I do know, I do—,” Callum sighs. “I just—I didn’t want to upset you.”

Ben is gentle when he takes Callum’s hand, when he presses Callum’s palm over his chest. “You ain’t.” 

When there’s no response, Ben finally glances back up. Callum is staring at him, unconvinced, thin brows drawn together, and there’s that sadness still in his eyes that makes Ben’s throat swell, because he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want that look, not from Callum. Not ever. 

“You’re my boyfriend, Callum,” Ben says, the words sit on his tongue familiar, round his mouth like poetry. “Your problems are my problems, remember?”

It was terrifying, what he felt for Callum in that moment, but all of it was true. He’d do anything Callum asked of him, _anything._

“Come here,” Ben says, finally presses a dry kiss to Callum’s mouth, holding his jaw with light fingers as they kiss slow, lips wet from his crying. 

“I love you, you know?” Callum says as they separate, brighter than ever. Ben opens his eyes and tilts his head up. Callum shifts his hand and grips tighter at Ben’s own. “Thank you for being here.” 

Ben knows Callum loves him. He feels it so purely. It’s in the way Callum says his name, the way just a tiny change in his smile changes his expression completely, his hands and his voice and the silly way he gets when it’s just the two of them. It’s the way that he knows exactly when Ben needs him to be gentle with him and when he needs him to be rough, when he needs him to hold or to dance. It’s everything. 

Ben knows Callum loves him. Ben knows he loves Calum.

_He’s just not so great at voicing it, is the thing._   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**0.5**

**21.03.20**

Its midnight, and Ben has been twenty-four for seventeen seconds. 

He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, away from the little red numbers of his digital clock before turning to his phone instead.

 **MAAAAAATE,** the first text of the day reads, from Jay, of course. **HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU LATER! HAVE A GOOD’UN. LOVE YOU BRO**

He taps out a reply to Jay quickly – there has been an unspoken rule since they were young that they will, under all and any circumstances, stay up till midnight on birthdays, and turns over with a smile. 

He has been twenty-four for forty-eight seconds when his door creaks open slowly, and he doesn’t need to flick a light on, doesn’t need to look up, to know who it is.

His heart gives a little pull. Distant, dull, but still, somewhat overwhelmingly, ever-present.

“Happy birthday,” Callum giggles, careful to meet Ben’s eyes, shutting the door behind him. 

“Thanks,” Ben whispers as Callum perches himself on the bed, knees tucked up to his chin. There is no need to whisper, no one else is here. But it’s night, Ben thinks, and more than that, it’s them, so it’s a whisper. “Finished whatever you were up to?” 

“Yep,” Callum nods his head proudly. “Just in time.” 

He’s smiling in the dark, Ben can feel it. There’s a buzz around him; always is really, but tonight it’s Ben’s buzz, and he likes that. Callum wriggles up till he’s sat next to him. Ben is leant back on the headboard now, trying to make out Callum’s face in the dark, his body warm and his breath hot as he laughs into Ben’s neck. It’s all Ben has. 

“You want your present now or later?” Callum asks. Ben huffs out a laugh, closes his eyes for a minute as Callum nips at his ear, quick, feather-light, but there.

“You know it’s not even been my birthday for two minutes,” Ben points out, breath careful and even, hands itching to reach out and touch him, “you’re a little overeager, occasionally, has anyone ever told you that?”

Callum pulls back for a moment. Ben imagines he winks. Or at least, attempts to. 

“Yeah, well, sue me,” he says. “First birthday together ain’t it, I’m excited.”

In that moment, Ben’s love for Callum is such a living, breathing thing inside of him that he feels as though it could break free from him entirely, that it could banish the grey clouds from the sky and draw light to the ground again.

He slides an arm around Callum’s waist and draws him close, kissing him softly, just a gentle press, then he's tilting his head to deepen it, his arm tightening around his waist. Callum makes a sound of approval against his lips, and the hand on Ben’s arm slides up to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, tugging a little as Callum breaks away to kiss across Ben’s cheek, writing cursive letters on Ben’s back, _Happy Birthday._

When he pulls away, Callum’s cheeks are rose petal pink and he’s biting down on his lip like he wants to be kissed again, and Ben wants to, he’s going to, but he can’t lie, it’s ten minutes into his birthday now and his excitement is getting the better of him. 

“What are we doing later today?” He asks, fingers brushing the hair falling in front of Callum’s eyes. Callum shrugs, sighs a little sleepily.

“Well I told your mum we’d be at hers at four—"

Ben strains to hear what Callum’s saying, he doesn’t quite catch it all but he’s sure he hears a _Mum_ in there somewhere. 

“—making plans with my mum now, are we?”

Callum shoots him a look. “She apparently thinks it more likely that I’ll remember the day of _your_ plans than you,” he says pointedly, and Ben can’t even deny that one. 

“Right, well,” Ben starts. “Suppose I’m ready for that present now.” 

“Oh yeah,” Callum fumbles under the bed, throwing a packet of _something_ at Ben. “There you are.” 

“I’m confused?”

Ben is staring at a bunch of screws and a mini screwdriver in his hands like they’re simultaneously the most interesting and bewildering thing he’s ever seen. Callum is close to tears with laughter beside him and it’s really not that funny, Ben’s sure. 

“Do you like them?” Callum says between his laughter.

“What,” Ben huffs, incredulous. “Callum I don’t—” 

“They’re screws,” Callum explains, matter-of-factly. “They go on in the walls.”

“Oh cheers Cal, I really had no idea. _Idiot._ ” And then he’s throwing them into Callum’s crossed legs with a scowl, nose all scrunched through his terrible attempt at holding in laughter.

“I hate you so much,” he says. “You are the worst.”

“Funny though, ain’t I?” Callum says, and it’s all Ben can do to roll his eyes. 

“The very peak of comedy,” Ben retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can I have my real present, now?”

“Alright, alright,” Callum gives in. “You will need those screws through, I swear.” 

Slowly, he reaches under the bed and places the gift before Ben, and well, it’s larger than he was expecting, that’s for sure. 

“This is usually the part where you open it, y’know?” Callum says with a puff of breath, nerves buzzing the room. It will never not to be enthralling to watch the way Callum bites on his lip, hiding his face behind his left hand, suddenly rendered mute.

And before Ben’s even able to tear half the paper down, Callum’s explaining himself, as if he can’t contain the excitement bubbling inside of him any longer. 

“It’s a picture of the night sky, of all the stars and constellations—and whatever—from the night, of out, uh, first kiss—and there’s a little message on there too,” he tumbles about with nervous excitement. Akin a kid on Christmas morning, Ben barely catches a word of it but he doesn’t have to. 

**_Ben & Callum _ **

**_06.06.19_ **

**_I love you more than the stars love the moon._ **

Something explodes in Ben’s chest, something fiery and bright, like the birth of a star. And suddenly his cheeks are damp to the touch, aren’t they? 

“This is so beautiful, Cal.” 

Callum shrugs, shy. “I know it’s not anything, like, special. I ain’t really any good at things like this.”

“Hey, no,” Ben swipes his thumb across the date. “I love it. It’s special to me. You’re special to me” 

Callum shrugs again, sinks half down the bed as if to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. Ben just stares at him for a moment, transfixed, always so transfixed with him. 

“I thought maybe we could hang it up one day,” Callum says softly, careful to meet Ben’s eyes. “You know—when we have a place of our own.”

Ben feels a bit like crying at that, so he lets himself, a lone, hot, tear trickles down his nose and runs diagonally across his cheeks. He reaches across to touch Callum’s hand, gripping onto his fingers in a way that must be too tight because it makes Callum hum. 

Ben just stares at him. Stops moving, stops even breathing and just stares at him. “Thank you,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper. “For this, for being here, for loving me. _For everything.”_

Callum just stares at him for a moment, and Ben can feel it.

He can feel the love Callum has for him in that instant—he can taste it, and it’s something that splashes onto his tongue like a sugar cube, melts there and makes its home. Ben rests his hands cupping on either side of Callum’s head, and then he dips down and kisses Callum’s eyes, the corner of his mouth, the dip of his chin. He licks over Callum’s bottom lip, wet and messy and so, so good, everything bright and electric.

They kiss like they’re hungry, just a blur of teeth and tongue.

Ben thinks that maybe he could do this forever. He thinks he could definitely do with a constant cycle of Callum, and happiness, and waking up together, falling asleep in each other’s arms, every day. He almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it, after everything, but, if Callum can forgive him, maybe he can start learning how to forgive himself.

It’s almost as though his feelings are petals ready to be plucked one by one, he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not, except he hears Callum’s voice on loop, stuck on _he-loves-me, he-loves-me, he-loves-me_ , as he pries the petals away ever so gently. 

_I love you_ , Callum signs at Ben, hands delicate and stare attentive, it makes butterflies erupt within Ben. Not just in his stomach, they’re blooming in his fingertips and in his chest, making his heart flutter, too. _So much_ , he adds. 

And maybe this is all he’ll ever need.

**\+ 1**

**31.03.20**

The thing that Callum knows now is that to love feels good, and then it feels lonely, it’s a beautiful, bright sunrise and then it’s an empty flat at midnight, it's fading lilac bruises on a neck you aren’t sure belongs to you any more, it’s the pale pastels of a flowers petal, _he loves me, he loves me not._

Callum breathes out slowly, shakily, resting his forehead down against the cold tile of the bathroom wall. The shower water washes over him like a storm, warm on his neck and down his back. He closes his eyes tight, slipping back into the soft sound of shower trickling around him, matting his hair down until it's slick and wet and falling into his eyes

Everything is hazy and out of focus and Callum just wants to go back to a time where he knew what he was doing, where he knew that he was loving somebody who loved him right back, now, he’s not so sure. 

He stands still beneath the showerhead, thinking about Ben, about the night only a few days back, where he’d spent all day worried sick about Ben, only to learn he’d barely given Callum a single thought all day. 

And it's not like Callum was surprised, he wasn't. 

He was angry and sad and numb, but he wasn't surprised.

They haven’t spoken for weeks, not properly, not how Callum has wanted. They’ve just slept in the same bed with an endless stretch of distance between them—always orbiting but never coming close, never looking, never talking. They’ve moved around each other like two planets in an empty universe, an infinite universe, maybe. It was just him and Ben, tucked away in the brightest corner of the galaxy, an indefinite space that went on and on, and that was alright, for the time. It was alright because, at the very least, it was still just him and Ben, just _benandcallum,_ circling around each other, as one. 

Callum figured that they'd come back together at some point. Not soon, no, but maybe later, once things got better. 

So, no, he wasn't exactly surprised.

That not to say it doesn’t hurt like hell.

And he knows he shouldn't be so upset, not after everything he’s seen and heard today, he knows that, but he’s alone in the shower, _in his heart,_ with nothing but memories that are shifting into nothing, into everything, consuming him.

He sees grainy pictures of him and Ben in this very flat, curled up on the sofa, side by side, eyes alive and hearts dancing. _(It was the moment when Callum first realised that he could love this boy forever.)_

It's him and Ben making love on the car lot desk (although he’s sure that’s not what Ben would’ve called it at the time) mapping out each other's bodies, their breaths blurring out into one steady sound. _(He could have died then, he was so happy.)_

It's him and Ben kissing in the middle of the market stall, for the first time in forever, soft and gentle and growing desperate, mouths still tasting like forgiveness and moments stolen. _(Suddenly, forever didn’t seem like long enough.)_

And then, then—it's the call from Jack, Kathy’s face telling him everything he needed to know before her voice could. The image now a blind spot in Callum's mind, but he remembers how he’d felt, heart crashing and splintering, yet tired, above everything else.

"Fuck," Callum sighs, and it turns into a sob as he bangs his forehead against the wall, once, twice, three times, his body shaking like a violin bow. He cries into the sound of running water, grasping at the tiles with his bare hands. 

He crawls out of the shower with unsteady steps and weak legs. The chill that seeps his bones is strangely welcome, with the way it allows him to feel something other than this overwhelming numbness, if only briefly. 

Once dressed, he makes his way to the living room, incapable of crawling back into bed and shutting his eyes to the world, _to Ben_. He lets himself sink down of the sofa, lets the cushions surround him, they comfort him. 

Yet he still feels lost, like a ghost made up of memories, alone in this place usually so occupied by Ben and all the parts of him which make Callum whole. 

_He loves Ben_. He loves him so much, but maybe this is the time he learns that love isn’t always enough. 

"Callum?” Someone asks, and Callum turns to find Ben poking his head in past the bedroom door, his blue eyes seeming like nothing but a dream. He looks tired, worn out. _Beautiful still._

Callum wants to turn away from him, wants to hold him too.

Wiping at his eyes, Callum pushes up from where he’s sunk into the sofa from the sofa. “I can’t sleep. You go back to bed."

"No point without you—" Ben starts before pausing, swallowing. His eyes flicker over Callum’s wired hands before coming back up. "I was wondering if we could chat?"

"What is there for us to chat about?" Callum asks. The rumbles of a lone car outside breaks the silence and he tries to ignore Ben’s eyes on his body, but he doesn't shy away, eyes resting on the door behind Ben. "The fact you were seconds away from cheating on me? Or that you got yourself arrested—"

"What?” Ben pauses, and for a second Callum thinks he’s going to have to repeat himself. He really doesn’t want to. “No Callum, I weren’t going cheat on you, I swear I wouldn’t—” 

"Wouldn’t you?" Callum asks, gaze cutting back to settle on Ben. And now he's angry, sadness slipping away from him, his body burning red. Part of him wants to make Ben feel something more than the nothing Callum’s been feeling, but an even bigger part of him wants to wrap Ben in his arms and will the world away. "If you hadn't spotted his keys? If you hadn’t been arrested? Would you still be able to say the same, Ben?"

Ben is quiet for a moment and Callum tries to keep his breathing steady, tries to make it out like he doesn't care about too much about Ben’s answer, but is hopeless. 

“Yes, Callum,” Ben says, his eyes on Callum. “I would never—I swear, it didn’t even cross my mind. _He_ didn’t even cross my mind, because I—”

Ben’s face is wet, and Callum can feel the tickle of his own tears on his chin, leaking down and dropping onto the front of his pyjama shirt. It’s so constricting, all the sudden, being in this boxy flat, in these tight clothes. 

He smirks and it's cold, glacial. “You what, Ben?” 

Ben looks up at him, wide-eyed and shaky. He opens his mouth, closes it. Nothing comes, and Cullum scrunches his eyes closed, pulls his lips into his mouth and tilts his head away, trying to fight the misty heat that’s glazing his vision. He feels Ben’s hand in the dark, feels one reach for his own slowly, lets it rest there. 

"I don’t know," Ben sighs, scrubbing his free hand down his face. "I was just trying to make a point, prove everyone wrong, you know?"

In the pools of moonlight that trickle through the kitchen window, Ben’s features are painted in gold; a voice in Callum’s head tells him this is a bad idea, to stop looking, to tear his gaze away from the smooth curve of Ben’s jaw and the blue depths of his eyes.

"Why?" Callum cuts in, "Why do you have to _try_ when I'm right here and I want you and I love you just as you are?” 

Ben stares at him for a moment, again not saying anything, and Callum can't tell what he's thinking, hasn't been able to for weeks now. "Because," he says finally, and he speaks like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It scares me, all of this. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Callum, and it's just a lot, and I know it’s no excuse but I’m scared. Of this, us, losing Denny, my hearing. All of it."

“You’re Mum said that, too,” Callum replies, and part of him still want to just leave, even though he fucking loves this boy standing in front of him—he loves him so much that he aches with it, so much that it weighs him down. “Said that I’m the best thing that ever happened to her stupid son.”

“Hm,” Ben agrees. “She got that right. The stupid part, too.” 

Callum stays quiet and they shift into a long stretch of silence, the only noise coming from a group of people passing by, stumbling out of the Prince Albert in the dead of night. He watches Ben, blue eyes shining in the dimness.

"I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Ben,” Callum breathes, and it’s softer than he’d intended. "I don't know where to put myself when I'm around you."

"Just stay right here,” Ben murmurs, pressing his other hand to cover the one already clasping at Callum’s. "Just stay close to me, yeah?"

Ben moves forward, resting his forehead on Callum’s, their mouths now only a breath away. Callum’s whole body is on fire, filling up with light, but he keeps still because he doesn’t want to be the one that falls first. 

"If I told you I loved you, right now, would it matter?" Ben asks, pale eyes flickering between the mist of Callum’s.

And Callum, well. Callum’s dizzy, he's spinning in place, around and around and around in his head **.** _If I told you I loved you, if I told you I loved you._ Callum’s eyes blink open, wide and worried and sort of angry, because father everything he was expecting from this chat, it wasn’t that. _Loved. Loved. Loved._ The words blur into the air, until it all sounds like a song, echoing through the room, through his body, through his soul. 

“Ben, you can’t just—not if you don’t mean—" 

Ben tips his chin up. He goes to touch Callum's face with his free hand, but stops a hair's breadth away, hovering as his warmth curls around Callum's cheek. This is it, Callum knows. This is where he makes the choice.

“I love you.” 

“You do?” His breaths are heavy, and he shakes his head, makes to stand.  
  
Ben reaches out and grabs Callum’s arm, firm, keeping him still. They watch each other, breathless, Ben’s gaze full of fear, now, but Callum refuses to look away, can hardly even process his thoughts, this whirlwind in his head spinning and spinning and spinning, but outside of himself it’s still so quiet, like a single word could shatter everything.

“More than anything.” 

“Ben,” Callum whispers, and it’s so, so quiet. But it’s enough.  
 _  
_It breaks.

Hope, like a flower after rain, opens and blooms and takes root in Callum's chest. “I love you,” he echoes Ben’s words, and takes his hand. Their fingers slot together firm and familiar. “I love you too.”

And then Ben kisses him, Ben kisses him for what feels like the first time in weeks, and it's good, Callum thinks dizzily, it's better than good. It's white-hot heat exploding between them like stars, filling the space up with a warmth so bright that Callum can barely see through it. Ben’s lips are chapped as they move over Callum’s open mouth, warm tongue licking inside, tears trickling over their faces like small storms. 

The force with which he throws himself at Callum tips them both backwards, sofa sinking with their weight, and it's all Callum can do to reach his arms back and catch them, but he doesn't care—

Ben kisses him with abandon, with every last ounce of love that he's got to give. Callum closes his eyes against it and gets lost in the achingly familiar sweetness of those lips. He's back in that park, his back against the rough bark of a tree, Ben's soothing softness plastered all over his front, the two of them trying to look each other in the eye to see if they both wanted the same thing. He's stood in the middle of those market stalls, waiting for Ben to come home. He’s on that bed, _their bed_ , losing himself in the pools of moonlight he finds in Ben’s eyes. He’s opening up to Ben, telling him his truths and being loved, all the same, kissed till his smile aches. He's twenty-seven and kissing Ben _Happy Birthday_ with his tongue and with his hands and with his eyes. 

It's every kiss they've ever shared, all at once, but flavoured with something brand new. 

_(I love you._

_I love you too.)_

It's enough to make Callum want to cry.

"I've missed you so much," Ben sighs, and his words are shaking, so Callum swallows up the sound, kissing back roughly. 

His fingers dig into the soft skin of Ben's hips, making sure he's there, that he's not grasping at air. 

And separates their mouths.

"I haven't gone anywhere,” he speaks into Ben’s mouth and his voice is ruined, eyes growing heavier, the whole world blurring. He feels the tears welling up in his throat again, suffocating. "I've been here, Ben. I've just been trying to find you."

“Cal,” Ben says, voice tight. “I’m sorry, for everything, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Callum whispers, but Ben shakes his head. 

“It’s not,” he says, links their fingers. “It’s not okay and I need you to let me be sorry. I don’t want to fuck this up anymore. You’re–You’re my happiness, Callum. You’re my warmth and my sunshine and everything that’s good. So please, let me be sorry.”

“Yeah,” Callum nods, and his eyes are going misty and hot and he hates that he’s about to cry but then Ben is pulling him back in, and he’s warm and safe and this might just be okay. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Ben gasps back into Callum’s mouth, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over him and sending him tumbling. His eyes spillover. “I love you so much,” he says as he drops another kiss to Callum’s lips. “So,” another, “fucking”, another, “much.”

A ball of warmth spins in Callum’s chest, weighing on his lungs and stealing his breath, but it feels wanted, needed, somehow.

_And right then, all is blessedly quiet, like the world is just for them, just for this moment._

_The thing that Ben knew then, was that to love was to bruise and to break. He knew that loving somebody was turning black and blue with the weight of everything you're feeling. Cutting yourself open at the rib cage and bleeding out over the floor and over the bedsheets, hoping with everything you have that he'll still love you even after he sees that you're not as pretty on the inside._

The thing that Ben knows now is that to love is to mend and heal, to be the light in someone else’s world. He knows that loving someone is bright and wonderful and dizzying, it’s shooting stars and snowstorms, rainbows alike. It’s Ben and it’s Callum, it’s the moon and it’s the sun; stronger together, never without the other. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading and well done for getting this far! comments/kudos greatly appreciated!! 
> 
> i'm @dingletragedy on tumblr/twitter - comes say hi! X


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